


Locked Up

by orphan_account



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More Hurt Than Comfort, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Simon Snow and the Mage disappear, and Baz and Bunce are challenged to find them when a mysterious letter arrives. Is it a trap? Certainly. Are they going anyway? Of course.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. It's probably a trap

**Author's Note:**

> Divergence from canon. Occurs during Carry On, while Simon and the gang are searching for Nicodemus. I'm telling myself I will come back and edit this soonish. I didn't do that before I posted it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Penny**

Baz and I are picking our way carefully over the large rocks of the canyon. Neither of us have said much in the last half hour, but it’s fine by me. I keep thinking about what we might be walking into. A dragon lair? A cave of numpties? Or something much more sinister?

“ **Back off** ,” I say under my breath. I’m trying to recall all the defensive—and offensive—spells I can think of. “ **Off with your head. Dead in the air. Burn baby, burn.** ” I can’t use that last one, I remind myself. Not with Baz here. He’s a vampire, and I don’t think Simon would appreciate me turning his roommate into a roman candle. I mean, he would have before, but everything’s changed since we started trying to track down Nicodemus. 

“Bunce.” Baz looks over at me, pausing a moment beside a boulder. He's hesitating. I cock an eyebrow at him. Finally, he sighs and says, “Obviously this a trap.” It is. We already agreed on that before we left Watford. “And obviously, we’re going to waltz right into it anyway.” We are. “But what happens if we get caught, too? Then what—it’s just me, you, Simon, and the Mage, all locked up somewhere? Maybe we should have gotten reinforcements.”  
It’s not as if that same thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but we’d already been over this. “The letter said it kicked off the countdown as soon as we opened it. There wasn’t any time.”

**Baz**

I pull the letter out of my breast pocket and shake it open. _18 minutes 42 seconds_. 18 minutes to reach the entrance of the cave at the bottom of this bloody canyon. 18 minutes to entrap ourselves or else Simon gets burned alive. Not a particularly good plan, but what else was there to do? Snow, and presumably the Mage, had already been gone for two days. 

The Mage had sent one of his little summoning birds the day before yesterday, pulling Snow out of Elocution. I knew those notes, seen far too many of them land on his desk, especially lately. Snow would disappear for the rest of the day and then come stomping in during the night, covered in cuts, bruises, and dried blood. He’d blunder around the dark, doing whatever he could to annoy me. He’d slam the door to our en suite or open the window to freeze me out. The git. (They weren't all bad, if I'm honest. It was dark enough that I could watch Snow moving around our room or climbing into bed, and he didn't have a clue.) The night he was pulled out of class, I fed in the Catacombs and went back to our room in Mummers, mentally prepared for another midnight interruption. 

It never came. 

I woke up in the morning to Snow’s empty bed and a closed window. I figure he’d be seated next to Bunce at breakfast—surely, he wouldn’t miss his first three meals of the day. But he had. That was yesterday, and Bunce and I were both starting to get worried. She cornered me last night, asking if I had hexed him or sent a chimera after him again. Of course I hadn’t, I told her. After all, we’d made a truce. 

Then she broke into our room this morning in the wee hours. Apparently she and Snow are determined to deprive me of my beauty sleep. (How Bunce manages to get past the barriers beats me, but I’ll figure it out one of these days.)

After recovering from my near-heart attack (can vampires have heart attacks?), I realized Snow still wasn’t back. Bunce and I were discussing what to do when there was a loud pop, and an envelope addressed to both of us landed on the floor. It was glowing slightly, which is rarely a good trait of mysteriously appearing letters. We held it between us to read the message. It contained several handwritten lines, each giving us worse news than the ones before. 

_Simon Snow has been captured. You have three hours to reach these coordinates. If you do not arrive in time, Simon Snow will be burned alive. This letter is spelled, and any attempt to alert another Mage will be thwarted._

Neither Bunce nor I knew if spells could be transferred from a letter to a person, but it didn’t seem there was much time to find out. She pulled out her mobile (the respectable Bunce was more of a rebel than I thought) and looked up the coordinates. If we left immediately and grabbed a taxi, it was a little over 2 hours away. That’s when we noticed the letter now read 2 hours, 54 minutes, 03 seconds.

There didn’t seem to be much else to it. We had to come. 

The taxi dropped us off here, precisely in the middle of nowhere. There was a foot-worn path just a few feet ahead of us, which wound down toward the bottom of the canyon. What exactly is waiting for us? Bunce and I are top of our year—both excellent spellcasters, and I’m a vampire to boot. We’re more capable than most of a rescue mission. But still . . . if supercharged-Snow and the Mage couldn’t stand against whatever this is, what chance do we have?


	2. Yep. It's a trap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a trap after all. I mean honestly, if the two smartest mages at Watford suspect it's a trap, you can probably trust their judgement.

**Baz**

We finally make it down all the rocks without breaking our ankles, thank magic. Bunce is puffing to my right, her ring hand held out in front of her. She has a fierce look on her face. I remind myself she’s taken on her fair share of monsters at Snow’s side (and honestly, I’m pretty sure she’s the brains of the operation). 

I pull my wand out and hold it aloft, looking around the canyon. I don’t particularly enjoy being exposed like this, but there’s nowhere to hide. Bunce and I share a glance. _We’re here. Let’s get this over with._ We walk toward the mouth of the cave.

It’s unnaturally quiet in here. There was a drizzle at the top of the road, but we’re surrounded by silence and stillness now. Someone powerful has been busy spelling this place. It smells familiar, like oak trees and old books and roses. We’re almost at the mouth of the cave. I turn to Bunce to ask if she’s ready when a sudden whistling catches my attention. I turn and— _Wham!_ My head feels like it’s going to split open.

**Penny**

Baz crumples to the ground a few feet away, cradling his head in his hands. I didn’t even have time to warn him before that _thing_ came whizzing out of nowhere. I’d be interested in finding out what it was, if a goblin—no, scratch that—four goblins hadn't just surrounded me.

“ **Off with your head!** ” I scream, angling my ring at the nearest goblin. His green head separates cleanly from his body. I whip around, spelling as fast as I can. “ **Off with your head! Back off!** ”

Two more down. Another three appear around me. Aleister Crowley, where are they even coming from? I take a moment to glance in Baz’s direction. He’s up again, putting up a good fight. A cut above his head is bleeding (I didn’t know he could bleed), and he’s casting spells left and right.

One of the goblins closest to me lunges forward, reaching for my hand. Oh no you don’t! “ **Burn baby burn**!” His green skin catches fire instantly, and he staggers away to go die away from the others. Smarter than I thought. I spell another one the same way.

“Watch it, Bunce!” Baz yelps. Merlin, I forgot! The first goblin I set fire to wandered toward Baz, but it burnt to a crisp just before he reached him. 

“Sorry!”

**Baz**

If I had the time, I’d happily curse Bunce out for sending a bloody matchstick my way. But I don’t have the time, because more of these dumb bastards just popped up around me. I keep casting, but it’s no use. Goblins aren’t smart or particularly good fighters, but we’re vastly outnumbered and my magic is waning. 

I depart from my usual tactics and opt for brute force. I don’t like to get my hands dirty, but it beats losing to a hoard of idiot beasts. I punch and kick and tear at them with my fangs, getting blood everywhere. It’s good I’m not hungry and better that their blood smells like boiled cabbage. 

The fighting keeps going, and every time we take one out, three more show up to take its place. I can hear Bunce behind me. Her voice is still filled with bravado, but I know she’s almost at the end of her rope, too. What do we _do_? As if she’s reading my mind, she yells at me. 

“We should give up!” It comes out more of a scream than a yell, and it make the hair on my arms stand up.

“Have you lost your head, Bunce?” I roar, leaping forward to tackle a goblin rushing us. A spell whizzes over my head—" **Hit the floor!** ”—and sends another one flying backward. 

“We knew it was a trap! We’re almost out of magic and they just keep coming!”

She’s right. Crowley, I’m actually going to surrender to a bunch of filthy goblins. “Fine!” I spit, tearing off one last head for good measure.

Bunce backs right up against me, and I can feel the heat radiating off her through my shirt. “We surrender!” she cries, putting her hands up. I sigh and follow suit. We are the worst rescuers. Just minutes in and we’ve already surrendered. And to _goblins_ no less.

“Wait, what are you do—” Bunce collapses besides me. I whip around and come face to face with a large goblin holding a club.


	3. Bound and Gagged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon is strung up in a dungeon, but he's not alone.

**Simon**

My whole body aches. I feel like a double-decker has backed over me at least once or twice, but it’s the bead of sweat hovering by my left nostril that’s going to drive me mad. I wriggle and do my best to scratch my face against my shoulder, but it’s hard work.

The goblins have me strung up in some awful sort of dungeon. I’m sitting, which is a bit of a reprieve, I suppose. My legs and waist and neck are strapped to a chair. My arms are numb at this point. They’ve been chained above my head for the last two days. Fuck, I hope they don’t have to chop them off. 

Of course, that’s assuming I make it out of here. I have to make it out of here. I can’t say I’ve always known exactly what my destiny is, but I can’t say “death by goblins” ever seemed like a real possibility. (It’ll be the Humdrum or Baz, I assume.)

I look up at the Mage. He’s still asleep—or passed out, or unconscious. Hard to say at this point. It’s times like these that I really wish I could control my magick better. If I could just direct the explosion . . . But as it is, I’m strapped up, and there are two other hostages beside the Mage. I don’t know who they are. They’ve haven’t woken up yet, but I know they’re not dead. (I’ve watched them closely enough to see they’re still breathing. Maybe not very well, but it’s better than sharing a room with corpses.)

If I go off, there’s no way I can protect all three of them. I’ve protected people of course, but that’s been when they’re _behind_. My fellow prisoners are occupying three of the six cages scattered around the inside of this circular room. I mean, maybe I could. Maybe I could try and stop myself from turning all three of them to ashes, but I’m not _sure_. I have to be sure. 

There’s also the matter of suffocating everyone, including myself. I thought this was going to be an easy mission. Goblins are about as dumb as they come. Even though I know they're after my head, they're not exactly organised. The Mage and I got here two days ago, ready to take them on. But someone (one of those bloody goblins) jumped me in the dark of the cave entrance. I didn’t even have time to react before I was out. I woke halfway to the dungeon. They were walking downward, through tunnels and tunnels of rocks. It’s like this place is a giant anthill.

It’s all too strange. Goblins in a cave? They’re usually city-dwellers. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure it out. Why would they be way out here? It’s like they were waiting for us or something. I know one thing: goblins are too dumb to manage all of this on their own.

Anyway, even if I did go off, we’re so far underground that I’d probably kill everything and everyone. Fuck! I wish, _I wish_ I could control it. A nuclear bomb . . . How does a bomb diffuse a hostage situation without exploding? (I don’t think it does.)

A heavy scraping sound grabs my attention. The doors are behind me, but I hear them open, as something is dragged in. Not something—someone. Oh no. Baz and Penny are bound, gagged, and unconscious. In the low light, I can see a nasty bruise forming on Baz’s pale brow. Shit.

The goblins that dragged them in have locked Baz and Penny in two separate cages. Both are well within view of me. Do the goblins know? Who they are to me? Maybe they at least know that Penny is my friend. I don’t know what Baz is to me. I shake my head—that’s a thought for a later time (or not).

I have no idea how we’re all going to make it out of this alive.


	4. It doesn't make any sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz wakes up and sees what kind of state Simon is actually in. (It's not good)

**Baz**  
My head hurts. I don’t quite feel up to opening my eyes yet because I think that will hurt more. I try to shift and find that my hands and legs are trapped in metal. What happened? I was with Bunce, and we were looking for . . . _Snow_. A burnt smell is hanging in the air. Any sense to preserve my skull evaporates, and I jerk my head up—still a poor choice, but I’ll make it. I’m in a dark, circular room. It’s barely lit, but I can see him quite clearly.

I look Snow over and find it harder to breathe. He’s alive, that’s for certain, but he looks a wreck. He’s bleeding—badly. It seems he’s been knocked over the head a few times, leaving gashes and cuts and bruises all over his face. The bare skin of his arms is covered in dozens of scratches. His hands are shackled above his head, while the rest of him is strapped to an iron chair. Crowley, what have they been doing to him? His head is lolling to the side in a way that unsettles me. But he must be okay, he _has_ to be.

It’s at that moment that Snow lifts his head and looks straight at me and gives me a weak smile. It’s more of a grimace, honestly, and it reassures me less than I’d like. 

“Hey, Baz. You shouldn’t have come,” he says in a hoarse voice. Has he had anything to drink since he was captured?

“Well, I realize that now,” I reply. I’m doing everything in my power to keep my voice as nonchalant as possible. I’m not about to let Snow worry about me. “Sorry we’re such bad rescuers.”

Another weak smile. He rests his head against his shoulder and heaves a sigh. He’s exhausted. I want to fix it, but my hands are quite literally tied. “What’s the situation?” I ask, determined to pretend like this is business as usual. Which, in Snow’s world, it practically is. 

He sighs again. “I don’t really know. We—uh, me and the Mage—we came out here for a mission. Goblin problems.” Snow laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “Obviously. I don’t know what happened, but I think I got knocked out. Woke up in the tunnels. Did you see them?”

“Tunnels?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “No, I didn’t see anything. I might know what knocked you out though—a club. That’s what did me in anyway.” I still can’t believe we were bested by goblins of all things. It isn’t until Snow pitches in a “me neither” that I realize I’ve said it out loud. 

He continues on to say, “I’ve been thinking it over and I don’t get it.” His eyebrows are knit in confusion. It’s an expression I’m all too familiar with, but now seems like a piss-poor time to mention it. “So, the Mage was unconscious, too. Yeah? He’s back there.”

I lean a bit and see the Mage sprawled on the floor of his cage, which fills me with a rather delicious feeling. He doesn’t look half as beat-up as Simon does though. I think he could use a bit more torture. 

“Well anyway. We were drug down here. I dunno how far, but a ways. And uh, the goblins, well. I guess you can see they’ve taken some . . . liberties in their methods. And the Mage has woken up a few times, but they keep dosing him with something to put him to sleep. Those poor blokes in the other cages haven’t woken up at all. But—it’s just, it’s just not normal, you know? Since when do goblins live in caves and work in groups like this? It seems like a lot more work than they usually do.”

I consider what he’s said for a moment. “Aren’t they after your head? Doesn’t whichever goblin manages to behead you get to be king?” Snow opens his mouth to respond, but I beat him there. “But then why would they be working together.” It’s not really a question, so he just nods.

We fall silent for a minute. Bunce is still unconscious, but I can her breathing steadily. Good. She’s too powerful to disappear on us. And, if I must admit it, she’s beginning to grow on me.

“Snow?” I ask. He looks up at me again. “What do they want from you then? Have they been asking questions?”

He shakes his head slowly, and it’s clear he’s asked himself the same question. “I don’t know. They haven’t asked me anything. Or said anything. They just . . . come in, give me water sometimes, check on everyone, and leave. That’s why it doesn’t make any sense.”

A third voice joins our conversation. “I hate Goblins.”


End file.
